


Rousing Tale

by NorroenDyrd



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Boners, Campfire stories, Drabble, F/M, Lust, POV Iron Bull, Sera Being Sera, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: Cadash tells a story of her exploits as a Carta assassin at the campfire, and Bull responds to it with much enthusiasm.





	Rousing Tale

‘The task seemed pretty simple, right,’ Cadash says, leaning forward to stoke the flame with a charred stick.

'Make it into the middle of the maze-like fortress that the merchant has built for himself, beat all the traps he has set up to keep intruders out of his private chambers: spikes, snake pits, carvings of crouching bearded axemen that blow jets of flame from you know where, and what have you… And then slit his hairy throat, and frame the rest of his dear old bickering family, so that the poor wife he’d been abusing would finally get her well-deserved break and raise her sons in peace’.

She makes a pause, surveying her audience with a sly twinkle in her green eyes, and leans back against Bull’s leg.

'I had it all calculated to the last detail; except for one thing. The duster had an oversized bronto guarding the very last stretch of the corridor. A new addition, apparently, because the lady had not told me about that. Unless of course…’

She runs her hand through her ginger hair and then down along her neck, baring her prominent front teeth in that coy, deceptively innocent smile of hers, falling for which has been the fatal downfall of many a target.

'Unless I made her feel so good that she forgot. But either way, I was brought in as an assassin - and a bed-warmer for the oh so distressed soon-to-be-widow - not as a bronto wrangler. Still, I had yo wrestle that beast to the ground if I was to make it in one piece. Luckily, just as the bronto sprinted at me, nostrils huffing, I came up with a plan…’

Bull grins, melting into what must look like a really dopey expression to an outsider. He knows, in that colder, rational part of his self that is not basking in the glow of the campfire and getting lost in the rhythm of Cadash’s lowered, sultry voice, that half of that impossible story is just her shitting the lot of them. She is a pro; one of the best, stealthiest assassins at the Carta’s disposal; even Red does not have enough dirt on her to fill a flower pot. She would not air out the details of a contract like that, even if the deal is long since done. Too much… business information to put at risk. No, if there even is a kernel of what actually happened somewhere in there, it is well hidden under layers and layers of mother-of-pearl-like outlandish details, each layer cleverly meant to grab at something within each of them.

That part about fire-farting carvings and bedding the wife as part of planning the death of her husband, for example, was clearly intended for Sera - the elf is still snorting with exaggerated giggles till she has to wipe her nose with the back of her newly crafted travel armour’s sleeve. Much to the outrage of the Lady Enchanter, of course. The latter, in turn, deigned to give Cadash a gracious smile when she was describing the elaborate, mostly hostile, relations within that merchant’s family. And the bronto - the bronto, of course, was for Bull’s benefit. And damn if it didn’t work!

Just imagining her, his Kadan; his fierce, daring, confident Kadan, who would dance in the heart of a magical fire storm, dodging each searing blast without getting as much as a speck of soot on her freckled face, who would make a scheming Orlesian noble blow a kiss of admiration at her before they realize she has slit their throat, who would grin from ear to ear and dare you to try harder before she even considers saying 'Katoh’; seeing her in his mind’s eye, with her flaming hair and stout, perfectly built body, straddling the thick neck of that rampaging, out-of-control armoured mountain, holding on with a steely grip even as the beast stomps and kicks and tries to toss her off… Oof, it does things to him. Just like watching her race up the swaying neck of that dragon and plant her daggers right into his eyes.

She pauses, parched by her storytelling, and reaches for a flask she’s placed by her side; and suddenly, Bull is parched too - parched for her, arching in her bonds, narrowing her eyes to cat-like slits when she exposes her throat for him to bite, catching her lower lip in a smug expression as his seed adds new splashes to the endless patterns on her freckled skin.

'Please don’t stop, Kadan,’ he whispers. 'Keep talking’.

But instead of her voice, he hears Sera’s - erupting into a full-blown bout of raucous laughter, and bellowing breathlessly in between

'Hey, hey, look how hard you got him! He’s gonna prod his last eye out with that Qunari stick!’

Then, comes Vivienne - her silky remark is like a splash of cold water into his burning face.

'Kindly go and take care of your indecency in private, my dear. Outside our earshot’.

'Yes ma’m!’ Bull responds huskily, beginning to retreat. Just before he disappears into the bushes, he cannot resist winning at Cadash and saying meaningfully,

'Taarsidath-an halsaam’.


End file.
